


Perihelion

by pepperfield



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Anachronistic Language, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Hades and persephone myth, Orpheus and Eurydice Myth, absolute butchery of mythology, names that are clearly not greek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4253622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperfield/pseuds/pepperfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no Persephone, but Hades falls all the same.<br/>There is no Eurydice, but Orpheus descends nonetheless.</p><p>A slightly unfamiliar tale about death, loyalty, and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perihelion

In the shade of the fig tree, they watch as the band of children turn play fighting into an actual scuffle, complete with tears and scraped knees. Hades, her long fingers venturing out from beneath the canopy of leaves to feel the rare touch of sunlight, says, "I think it's too early to call Hermes. Why don't we return a few years down the road, once they learn how to hold actual swords. That branch is a poor substitute."  
  
Her brother rolls his eyes, his great cloud of black curls flying every which way as he shakes his head. "Stop thinking about work for a second, would you? I brought you out here to show you my kids, not to have you steal them away."  
  
Hades raises one thick eyebrow, the wind-kissed leaves casting a mottled shadow over her dark skin. "They're  _all_ yours? You've been busier than I thought."   
  
Zeus grins at her, teeth blinding and eyes storm bright. The color of lightning - shifting and unpredictable, flowing from white gold to Aegean blue - sparks through the earthy brown of his irises. "Thanks for that vote of confidence, my virility really appreciates it. But we both know that's not what I wanna talk about right now."  
  
"Really? Innumerable exploits and copious spawn are your two favorite subjects." With her fingertip, Hades traces a fresh scar on Zeus' forearm. "This is new. You were dallying with the wrong people again, weren't you?"  
  
"Yeah, I was trying to decide between going human and turning into a goat, and it turns out that neither was a good choice, so," he says nonchalantly. He starts walking toward the town, helping Hades tuck her shawl over her hair, to protect her from the glare of the sun. "Hey, if you ever want me to hook you up-"  
  
"No, thank you," she refuses firmly. They pass a young woman carrying a jug of water in her arms, a man about her age trailing after her.  
  
"Okay, that's cool, I know you're not low-commitment like me, but what about that," he asks waving in the direction of the young couple behind them. The young man is recounting a story that makes the woman laugh, causing her to almost lose grip. They rush to save the jug from spilling, still laughing.  
  
"That?" Hades asks dryly as the couple finally continues on their way, their cargo secured. "What, companionship?"  
  
"Yeah, that's probably the word."  
  
"You do know that I'm not alone in the underworld, don't you?"  
  
They reach the agora, busy with people conducting their everyday business. The liveliness pleases Hades, but she takes care not to grow too attached. Zeus, however, ruffles the hair of passing children and waves at merchants and artisans, his familiarity with them evident.  
  
"Vanessa," he begins, using a moniker for her that he'd acquired somewhere up north, "I'm talking about romance. Look, Charon's a good kid, and he works hard and shit, but there's no way he's exciting company. And Hermes is fine, I guess, but he's not your type. Don't even get me started on Thanatos.  _So_ not an option."  
  
"It's sweet that you're worried about me. But you shouldn't be. I'm not lonely," she reassures him, arm looping with his as they walk on. They look well matched as siblings, both with inky curls and athletic builds, their indistinctly unsettling eyes betraying their inhuman heritage.  
  
"If you say so," he agrees amicably, even though the twitch at the corner of his mouth reveals to her that he's still bothered by the subject. However, he lets the matter drop, and they make their way toward the fruit stands, melting easily into the crowd.  
  
\--  
  
Hades was not like her brother.  
  
Zeus loved mortals. He loved humanity dearly, like a father, but he also loved the way they lived, ephemeral and petty, entrenched in grudges and infatuations, struggling against the strings of fate. But for all that humans hurt one another, they were also capable of greatness, of heroics and heartbreaking beauty. He wandered his realm in different guises, living among them, in their squalor and splendor.   
  
"They're just like me, 'Nessa. A bunch of conceited fuckfaces, but, you know, with a shorter life span, and less getting eaten by their dads. Usually."  
  
But for Hades, who lived out her days in the silence and the shadows, past the edge of the earth and the ends of the five rivers, humans did not burn so bright. They came to her at their best and their worst, but sedated, their vitality drained, leaving only their well-worn souls behind. In this way, Hades received them, dutifully, endlessly, and these mortals who had feared her so much in life saw that she wore a tired smile for each of them. And they would realize, under her strong, soothing touch, that death was but another stage, and they would follow her to Asphodel and Elysium, finally acknowledging providence.  
  
Hades loved humans too, quietly, unseen. She welcomed them into the dark with steady hands, guiding them gently into the beyond. All of Zeus' children fell to her care eventually, and for each, she passed a fair judgment.  
  
But therein lay the difference.  
  
Zeus would ask her why she chose not to extend her stays above ground, but he could never understand. Above ground, Hades would stand, watching with detached fondness someone bursting with energy and life, only to blink, and find herself at the gates of the underworld, walking that very same soul onto the next realm. Everyone, in time, would be hers, but that time began to seem impossibly short if she wandered the surface for too long. That was a pain she could do without. And while Zeus could weave in and out of their midst without fear, for Hades, they held nothing but curses on the tips of their tongues. Hades loved humanity, but humanity did not love her.  
  
So it went, and so she stayed, down in the somber deep, where there was nothing but eternity.  
  
She had no need for the light of the sun. She had no need for companionship. What she had was good enough.  
  
\--  
  
Until one day it isn't.  
  
Having been coerced to visit her surface-bound siblings - Demeter, waxing unnaturally poetic about the bountifulness of his harvest this year (and devising a crafty way to increase offerings toward himself), and Poseidon, her sun-bleached hair smelling of brine and hands rough from the salt of the sea, again trying to cajole Hades in for a swim - Hades returns home slowly, meandering through the countryside, trying to capture her last glimpse of autumn under her bare feet. The day grows late, and the fields are almost deserted, save a farmer or two in the distance, inspecting their land.  
  
The dirt underfoot is cool on her toes, and the stalks of wheat brushing against her fingers remind her of some absurdity Demeter uttered earlier, and it brings a smile to her face. When the first strands of song reach her ears, she doesn't even realize at first, until she finds herself humming along. The melody conjures up the image of the stormless sea, still and vast, blanketed in glittering sunlight, the words an appeal to Thalassa. Pausing with her hand still carding through the wheat, she listens to the voice singing unaccompanied, a soft ache gathering in her chest. The feeling is alien to her. Unfamiliar. There have been thousands of songs before this one, but none that have moved her so deeply. Intrigued, she follows it to its source, careful to remain hidden.  
  
Hades stops at the edge of the field, peering out at the stump on the corner of the crossroads, where a young woman is bent, stretching out her legs. Her hair, plaited and tied, is redder than the pomegranates Hades cultivates, and it glints like a flame under the setting sun. She sings absently, as an after thought to her exercise, but her voice is as pure and clear as Calliope's own. When she stretches, the long, fair lines of her legs seem to lead somewhere obscene, and Hades has to drag her eyes away, looking down at the ground, mortified at her momentary weakness.  
  
She shifts backwards, but it causes a rustle in the leaves, and the woman stills, turning her head at the sound. Hades would retreat immediately, were it not so undignified to flee after already having been spotted. The woman straightens, halting her song, and even from here, Hades can see the unusual green of her eyes.  
  
"Why are you hiding? I don't bite," the woman says, the beginnings of a smile gracing her lips.  
  
After a second of hesitation, Hades emerges from behind the golden stalks of wheat and approaches. She stops several steps away, retaining a safe distance. Her irises flicker from ethereal white to a pale blue: something more human. Their gazes meet and Hades begins to apologize, trying to keep the eons out of her voice and the echoes of death out of her eyes. "I was walking when I heard your song. I didn't mean to disturb you."  
  
"I should be apologizing to you, for interrupting your walk," the woman responds, rotating her right arm around in its socket. "Sometimes I forget about the whole singing thing. It's kind of a reflex, you could say."  
  
"It's lovely," Hades says earnestly, suppressing the desire to move toward her.  
  
"Not so lovely as yourself," and at Hades' startled glance, the woman holds back a laugh. "Sorry, that's also a reflex."  
  
"A dangerous one. Lovely people often have a jealous lover in tow. You could find yourself on the wrong end of a passionate temper."  
  
The woman draws up her sleeves to show Hades that it isn't only her legs that are well-muscled. "I think I can handle an angry suitor or two," she says with a grin. "Especially for you."  
  
It's times like these that make Hades glad her complexion doesn't betray her blush. "Now I know you're just teasing."  
  
"Maybe. We don't know each other well enough for you to tell." The woman shakes out her limbs to loosen them up. She takes a step back, opening up the space between herself and the road. She's offering Hades an easy way out, and for an instant, Hades considers it. Something is happening here, something she doesn't quite understand, but she could walk away now and it would never have to be anything more than a few words exchanged between strangers.  
  
But sometimes the waking world has such moments of irrepressible allure that even the immortal find themselves entranced. Now: with the curve of the sun burning vermilion on the horizon, under the gilded sky, Hades wants  _more_. She wants more than the shade and the gloom; she wants to taste ambrosia on her tongue and hear the laughter of children and feel the sensation of someone's skin against her own. She wants to live like mortals do, ruled by their caprices and desires, if only for a moment.  
  
This woman, with her glittering eyes and siren sweet voice, looks at Hades like she's full of possibilities. She can see them herself, unraveling like fraying threads on a tapestry. It would be so easy to pull one free, to see where it leads.  
  
Just once couldn't hurt, could it?  
  
"Then I suppose I better do something about that. My name is Vanessa. I'm from Taenarum, and I can't dance to save my life," Hades says, drawing a step closer.  
  
The tiny wrinkles at the corners of the woman's eyes deepen when she smiles. "I'm Carolina. I've been told my songs are only paralleled by my abilities as an escort. If you were looking for a chaperone all the way back home."  
  
"Not so far, I'm afraid. Just to the next town over. But I'd be happy to have a traveling companion."  
  
"Then lead the way," Carolina tells her, only an arm's length away now. Close enough to touch, but Hades is sensible enough not to cross that line. Instead, she starts down the path, Carolina falling in beside her. They continue onward, side by side.  
  
"That hymn you were singing - I don't think I've ever heard it before."  
  
"That's because I wrote it. There's a lot of time to think when you're stuck on a boat. As I've been forbidden from training at night, since it somehow 'unsettles' and 'stresses out' the other sailors, I put my energy into my songs instead. And then I sing them quietly into their ears as they sleep."  
  
"...I can't tell if that's a punishment or not."  
  
"No, punishment would be tying a seasick soldier to her brother and letting them loose within coughing range of the captain."  
  
Hades surprises herself with her laugh, sudden and instinctive. "You're  _terrible_. They should have you banished from the ship."  
  
"Oh, trust me, they've tried."  
  
  
  
Carolina is seamless grace and carefully controlled energy. She spins ridiculous adventures with cutting delight, wit as dry as the night air. The confidence she projects causes some degree of envy in Hades, who still has mortals second guessing her authority. But what charms her most is the awkward sincerity with which Carolina asks after Hades' own stories - her genuine interest when Hades tells her tamer versions of her siblings' exploits. She watches Hades like she's worth every second of attention, and it's intoxicating.  
  
When Carolina leaves Hades at the edge of town, with the stars beginning to dot the night sky, she hesitates. Hades resists departing first, trying to preserve the timeless bubble around them as long as she can. These few hours, spent talking about pointless things and silly anecdotes, will soon become nothing more than a memory, but before that, Hades finds herself filled with anticipation. The kind that leaves her palms clammy and her mind grasping for any excuse not to leave.  
  
But this is far as she can let it go.  
  
"Thank you for tonight," she tells Carolina, consciously retreating further into town. "And may you remain safe on your travels. I'll have to bid you farewell here."  
  
Carolina, however, shakes her head, red braid catching the glow of candlelight from a nearby house. "No goodbyes. Let's make it an 'until next time,' okay?"  
  
"Next time?" Hades echoes.  
  
"I hate goodbyes. They're too final," Carolina explains. "So, goodnight, Vanessa. Until we meet again." And with a gentle touch to her sleeve, Carolina takes her leave.  
  
Hades watches her walk away until the darkness consumes her.  
  
\--  
  
The goddess of the dead is steadfast. Immovable. Or so she thought.  
  
_Don't_ , Hades tells herself. Decrees it.  
  
_Don't think about her. Do not look for her. Don't imagine her voice. You will find nothing but regret.  
_  
Zeus, always a touch too intuitive for his own good, notices how distracted she has become, and proceeds to harangue her without mercy.   
  
They sit atop a cobbled wall, watching Hephaestus tinkering with an oblong sheet of metal while muttering gleefully to himself about his new invention. Zeus pauses on chewing on a straw to elbow Hades and say, "So Hestia tells me you almost fell into his hearth-fire yesterday, and that was after knocking over his entire flower arrangement _and_ a tray full of rolls."  
  
"I do regret what happened to the rolls," she sighs, deflecting.  
  
"Hah, don't think you can sneak out of this conversation. You fucked up, didn't you?" he asks, grinning. "Did you send a bunch of people to Tartarus by accident? Knock Charon out of his boat again?"  
  
"That only happened the one time!" Hades protests, shoving him off the perch. He lands lightly on his feet, turning on his toes in a dancer's spin to face her, resting his arms up on the wall at her side.  
  
"The point is, you're never this distracted. It's gotta be something big to get you so spacey."  
  
Hades purses her lips and starts cracking her knuckles, starting at the pinky. If anyone would have advice (good or not), it would be Zeus. But she doesn't want him to blow the situation out of proportion. There isn't even really a situation.  
  
"Companionship," she says cryptically, leaving it to him to connect the dots. Normally she'd be much more blunt, but saying anything else aloud is just too incriminating. Too unguarded.  
  
He mulls over the word for a minute, until his eyes go wide, flashing violet. "Hooooly shit,  _no_. You met someone.  _You_. Seriously?" He looks twice as excited as Hades feels. In fact, she's not sure she's excited at all. Just sort of nervous and fluttery and filled with an enormous dread, trying to compact it all down into something easy to sweep under the rug.  
  
"It's not a big deal. We only met once, and she probably doesn't even remember who I am."   
  
"Yeah, but the important thing here is that  _you_ remember  _her_ , which is like...unfathomable. I'm drowning in all these fucking unusable fathoms; there's so many of them."  
  
"You make it sound like there's no room in my cold, dead heart for anyone," she teases, pretending like she's not completely out of her element.  
  
Zeus frowns at her, shaking his head several times. "Shit, no, that's not what I meant. If anything, there's too much room. You care, Vanessa; you care  _a lot_. But you're the queen of the underworld, and you've seen millions, maybe hundreds of millions of people. So for you to remember her - she's gotta be something, right?"  
  
The words in her throat, nowhere near eloquent, yet about to spill out like a pot boiling over, are swallowed away before Hades can embarrass herself. She isn't a poet, let alone a muse. She has no way of capturing those emotions that haunt her still, so she settles for, "Yes. She really is."  
  
Slamming his palms down on the wall, then wincing at the pain, Zeus says, "Well, then, tell me who she is! One of us? Dude, not Ares, right? Mnemosyne'll never quit whining if it's Ares. He'll just hang around your place in that dumb pool of his and gripe until you wanna punch him in the face."  
  
Hades' laugh is lost under the sound of Hephaestus' hammer hitting metal, sparks lighting the air. Sensing that the sound will become too loud to overcome, she jumps down to join her brother. They wave their farewells to Hephaestus, who salutes back and continues hammering.  
  
"Not one of us," she responds as they leave the forge behind. "Her name is Carolina." When the name leaves her lips, a weight lifts from her chest. Somehow, saying it out loud, helps calm her nerves.  
  
This is real. These feelings and that enduring echo of Carolina's voice in her mind: she can admit that they're not an illusion. They signify something unattainable, but they are present nonetheless.  
  
She will grant herself this one lapse in judgment. And then she will close her heart again.  
  
When Zeus doesn't say anything, Hades turns to him, wondering what's keeping him so uncharacteristically quiet. But instead of the mischievous smirk she'd been expecting, he's looking at her with an almost melancholy expression. Before she can ask him what the problem is, he finally speaks.  
  
"You know how sometimes even I have some pretty good ideas?" he asks. She nods, because of course he does, despite his seemingly frivolous personality. But his face only becomes more pensive, eyes dark and impenetrable. "Just this once, try to listen to me. I think you should go for it. Meet her again. See if there's something there."  
  
His words touch treacherously close to the hope that's been allowed to grow untamed for too long. A foolish hope. One that she should know better than to keep. Hades, throat suddenly dry, doesn't break her gaze when she responds, "There isn't. There won't be. It's just not possible." And saying it with all the authority of the sovereign of the dead, for a moment she even believes herself.  
  
\--  
  
Spring alights again, and with it, the romance of youth. Hades would be impervious to its charms, but Zeus hasn't let her off the hook since that day at the forge. In a devious twist, instead of doing the dirty work himself, he's simply alluded to their brethren that Hades has a potential paramour, which has resulted in a whole cornucopia of tomfoolery. After the fourth time Hermes tries to talk to her about her feelings, and Hephaestus, Poseidon, and Ares each barge into the underworld with increasingly poor ideas for tokens of affection, Hades forbids any visitors for the immediate future, and promptly flees above ground to avoid them.  
  
She takes to Athens, whose patron is too involved with some new convoluted scheme to bother her. Shawl drawn high, she slips away from the center of the city, out to where the weeds start to burst between sparse stone tiles, and the only company is elders strolling out their afternoons. And then she keeps walking, to the city limits, with its clustered trees and untouched dirt.  
  
Her aim is to find a place of silence and rest, where she can escape all that  _noise_  her family generates, if even for one day. She disappears into the trees, savoring the patter of her footsteps and the call of the songbirds, but as the foliage grows thicker, the sun barely seeping past the layers of leaves, a familiar sound emerges.  
  
A voice that she can no longer forget.  
  
Breath suddenly quickening, Hades stops behind a robust trunk before the forest opens up into a small clearing. How could the stars have aligned to allow this to happen? How could she stumble right into the path of the person she's been most desperate to avoid? Shouldn't gods be above the reach of fate's vexing whims?  
  
As she scrambles to hide, the words of Carolina's song become distinct.  
  
_Plouton, holder of the keys to the whole earth_  
_You give the wealth of the year’s fruits to mankind_  
  
Hades' heartbeat stutters, and she freezes with her hands clenched against the bark of the tree. Plouton. Pluto. Carolina is singing to  _her_. She's never heard these words before, which means Carolina wrote this song.  _For her_.  
  
_Holiest and illustrious ruler of all, frenzied god,_  
_You delight in the worshiper’s respect and reverence._  
_Come with favor and joy to the initiates. I summon you._

An invocation, meant only for her. She feels the words stirring at the edges of her consciousness, the pull of the summons tugging at her, even without the weight of full rites. This is what Carolina does to her. She shouldn't answer, but how could she refuse such a request?

Closing her eyes, she takes a steadying breath. Zeus' advice rings in her mind, and she decides. There can't be anything between them, but...

"Landbound again so soon?" she asks, entering the clearing where Carolina sits in the grass. At the intrusion, Carolina lifts her head, piercing green eyes finding her easily against the backdrop of the leaves.

"Vanessa?" Her expression quickly changes from surprise to warmth when Hades reveals herself. A perilous hope springs forth again at the sight. "I never thought I'd see you here, of all places."

"I could say the same about you. You stole my secret spot," Hades accuses, not even enough false offense in her tone to carry the slightest pretense of annoyance.

Carolina meets her gaze sternly, but there's a telltale looseness to the slope of her shoulders. "Excuse me? I've been coming here for months and I've never seen a single person pass through before today."

"Fair. I haven't been around recently. But I first came here several summers ago, which means my claim is older than yours," Hades returns.

"Did I say months? Sorry, I meant years," Carolina says, her straight face starting to give way.

"Oh,  _years_ , now, is it? How many? Five? Ten?"

"Forty."

Hades snorts inelegantly, settling into the flowers with her skirt in disarray, forgetting to keep a more careful distance. "Nice try. You look barely a day over twenty-five."

"Thirty, then." At Hades' unimpressed glance, Carolina continues, "I was born here. In this very meadow."

Hades' eyebrows rise dramatically. "Here. Surrounded by the birds and the nymphs and the fawns."

"Yes," Carolina says decisively, and they share a look, before dissolving into laughter. When they've calmed down, she asks, "But why are you here? I didn't take you for the type to train in the woods."

"Definitely not training. Soul-searching, I guess. I usually prefer the water, but I needed to be somewhere my family couldn't find me."

Carolina nods, chewing on her lip thoughtfully. "You needed space. Am I in your way? I can go, if you'd like."  
   
"No! No, you're fine," Hades reassures her too hastily. Embarrassing. She plows on to cover up the error. "It's just- I love them, but they're a lot to handle sometimes. I needed some peace and quiet."  
  
"Yeah. I get it. You want some time for just yourself." For a minute, Carolina stares out into the trees, mulling something over. When she turns her gaze back toward Hades, she looks almost sneaky. "But a little excitement could be fun too."  
  
"It could," Hades hedges, but she has a feeling she isn't going to protest very hard to whatever Carolina has planned.  
  
"Vanessa, have you ever been inside the Parthenon?"  
  
"Why, are you wondering what's-" Carolina's sly grin gives her game away and Hades shakes her head rapidly. "No. No, we're not going to  _break into_  the Parthenon." Athena would never quit complaining if he found out they'd touched his precious treasures.  
  
"Fiiine. How do you feel about rock climbing? We could scale the Areopagus."  
  
"It does have stairs, you know."  
  
Carolina looks at her through narrowed eyes, tapping a finger against her cheek in thought. "Ah. Got it. Let's go swimming."  
  
"Swimming." Hades hums and pretends for a minute to think it over. Swimming means wet clothes and glistening skin and possibly Poseidon floating over to heckle her, but right now, the temptation of the pros definitely outweigh the cons.  
  
"Please don't tell me you've been hit with some sort of drowning curse," Carolina says during her pause.  
  
"No, swimming is fine. Let's do it."  
  
If Carolina's smile is enough to send shivers through Hades, then the sensation when Carolina takes her by the hand - well, to put it simply, Hades knows she's in trouble.  
  
  
  
Carolina thoroughly trounces her when they race down the beach, and when they swim from pier to pier, and even during their underwater breath-holding contest (though Hades throws that match since the odds aren't exactly fair). But Hades will not be dethroned from stone-skipping champion, so she buys Carolina a melon as a consolation prize, and they part that evening with another promise to meet again.  
  
"I'll be setting off for Parnassus soon, but when I return, you owe me a rematch," Carolina swears, melon tucked under her arm.  
  
"You can't win at everything. Let me have this one," Hades protests.  
  
"Nope. I'm coming for you," she threatens, but with her hair let loose and her head tilted toward Hades, it's hard not to find it endearing.  
  
"Just be careful where you practice. Don't hit anyone in the head with rocks."  
  
"No promises," Carolina calls as she walks backwards toward the city, brandishing her melon like a weapon. Hades waves until she's out of sight, then drops down into the sand, trying her hardest not to curse Zeus to oblivion, because she knows he'll hear it somehow.  
  
"Companionship," she mutters into her hands. Zeus is always right when it matters most, but she can't fault him for it. "Dammit."  
  
\--  
  
This is how a habit forms.  
  
Hades knows it's becoming a problem. A problem she takes care to keep well-hidden. Thanatos has noticed, but he's preoccupied with Cerberus, and simply waves cheerily at Hades when she slips away to the surface.  
  
Soon, she runs out of excuses for her excursions, but luckily her number of visitors has died down, so whenever the tide of incoming souls ebbs, she ascends to the surface again.  
  
She meets Carolina in Athens, in the forest and by the sea. They run, and they talk, and they eat, and they swim. Carolina shows her how to throw a punch and strum the lyre. She teaches Carolina about the history of each building they pass, and the names of fallen kings and crumbling cities. They climb mountains in the early light of dusk, and trace budding constellations at midnight, hands entwined as Hades tells Carolina each star's story, which she sings back to her softly.  
  
They never kiss.  
  
  
At the port, under the swell of the sun, they sit on the dock, Hades deftly braiding red hair to be pinned in a tight spiral around Carolina's crown. She marvels at the way the red strands flow through her fingers, admiring the effect of crimson against brown. Thinks about how nice it would be to see Carolina's hair spread around her like a curtain as they lean in toward each other, then shakes that thought out of her mind. No use thinking about impossible hypotheticals.  
  
As she plaits another lock she notices one shimmering hair that she pulls out to examine more closely. Upon inspection, she realizes that it's a gray hair, and it's not alone. There are a handful of others peppered throughout the sea of red, and the sight of them makes Hades' blood run suddenly cold.  
  
It's not that she forgot, exactly. It was just something she pushed out of her mind as she saw Carolina more often. Something to fret about later, because the present is for living, not worrying. But no amount of wishing can change the fact that Carolina is mortal, and aging.  
  
And that someday she will die.  
  
There are ways to circumvent this, of course. Every god knows how to cheat death, and Thanatos doesn't mind. Much. But Hades would never do it without asking Carolina first, and there's no way to broach that subject without certain explanations about her true identity that she's not ready to get into yet. Perhaps she should gather information first, put out feelers to see how receptive Carolina would be to consorting with gods.  
  
Absently, Hades ties the ends of the braid, which she begins to wrap, but the touch of Carolina's hand at her wrist stops her. She looks down to see that her companion has twisted around between her legs to face her.  
  
"Hey, I wanted to tell you that after today I'm going to be gone for a while. My crew and I have to sail out to Colchis the day after tomorrow."  
  
"Oh, some sort of new assignment?" Hades asks casually, pinning the braid in place. This could be good. A long trip means a long time to plan what move to make next.  
  
"Yeah, there's a golden fleece, and a usurped throne. It's all very prophetic." Carolina pats the braid down and smiles at Hades in thanks. "I didn't want to leave without telling you first."  
  
"Thank you. Now I'll know to find someone else to arm-wrestle next week instead of waiting around for you. Maybe a new hiking partner too."  
  
"I won't be gone that long. You'd better not forget about me," Carolina says, pinching her leg.  
  
"I would never," Hades replies, pretending she's insulted, to hide how true it really is.  
  
  
  
On the day of Carolina's departure, Hades materializes above ground at the end of the beach, watching her board her ship from afar. Carolina has a sword on her back, dressed in clothes suitable for battle, and she strides on with all the confidence of someone who's had years of practice sailing.  
  
The captain nods at Carolina in recognition, and a man walks up to her, nudging her with playful familiarity. She elbows him back, and turns to say something to the tall sailor standing near the mast. Hades watches for another moment or two, before descending back home. Carolina looks like she's in good hands. She'll return to Hades soon.  
  
\--  
  
Time in the underworld passes in ripples, occasionally tiptoeing and honey-slow, and sometimes fleeting, and gone all too soon. For the deceased, it has no meaning. Hades measures it in reflections of the surface world, where it holds more significance. On this particularly long stretch of summer, the kind that drips languidly into autumn, Charon brings her several souls in succession, that hold more significance than she could ever have expected.  
  
The first is a knife sharp girl, all doe eyes and loaded curiosity. She steps away from the banks of the Acheron with calculated movements, hand trailing a moment too long on the ferry. When Hades greets her, she makes eye contact without a hint of fear, just a restrained fascination.  
  
"First to go, huh? I guess I'm not surprised," the girl admits, her curtain of chestnut hair hiding her expression. She matches stride with Hades as they descend down the stone hewn stairs to where the Judges reside. They pause right before reaching their destination, and the girl looks to Hades once more. "They always called me a pessimist, but I really think they just might make it. Tell them not to follow too soon, would you?"  
  
"They'll only arrive when it is their time," Hades promises her, and she nods, satisfied, walking forward to be judged. Hades turns away, allowing her privacy in her fate.  
  
  
Shortly after arrives a man, amiable and engaging, and also splattered with blood.  
  
"Oh, it's not mine," he assures her. "The battle was ours. No, the physician just gave me the wrong healing herbs afterwards!" He laughs affably, not at all perturbed by his end. When he departs, he leaves Hades with a jaunty wave and never looks back.  
  
He's followed perhaps days later by two souls supporting one another, one male, one female, both with blond hair and matching grimaces.  
  
"I told you it would be fucking terrible," the girl snaps, and her brother adjusts her arm around his shoulder.  
  
"I wasn't disagreeing with you," he says, following Hades carefully downwards.  
  
"No, you were all like, 'oh, if we stick to the plan it'll be fine,' but guess what, if it's a shitty plan, then we're fucked, aren't we?" She shakes herself loose from him and stomps on ahead, overtaking Hades.  
  
Her brother shares a look with Hades, bemused. "Wait, I thought you were talking about being dead."  
  
The sister blows out a puff of air, fluttering her blond locks askew. "Well, of course being dead sucks, stupid. Why would that ever be up for debate. But if you weren't being such a stubborn prick, maybe we'd still be up there. Next time,  _you_ listen to  _me_ , got it?" She spins around to jab him in the chest, and he nods obediently, a smile threatening to overtake his scowl.  
  
"Alright, alright. Next time," he says, and they step forward toward judgment together.  
  
  
The one-eyed thief, with his congenial smile and dry wit asks Hades to put a word in above and hurry along the demise of the mercenary who killed him. She tells him that it doesn't work quite that way, but he just laughs and says he'll meet up with some old friends while he waits. The mercenary descends soon enough.  
  
By the time Hades combs through her tomes of memory and remembers exactly why these souls seem familiar, it's too late.  
  
The tall soldier with the bare head follows her silently, but he can't help looking back toward the surface, his mind lingering on those he left behind. Hades no sooner leaves him with the Judges than an unearthly rattling begins, shaking the very land itself.  
  
Hades hurries back upwards, toward the gates, but the sound of splashing and Charon's cry is all it takes to tell her what is going on.  
  
Someone is trying to enter the underworld. Someone without a fee.  
  
Someone still alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Carolina's song in the woods is taken from the Athanassakis translation of Orphic Hymn #17: To Pluto.


End file.
